Savage Urges (The Phoenix Pack, #5)(56)

“I swear I’m not jealous that God only talks to you, okay. In fact, I think it’s unfair that when a person talks to God it’s called ‘praying’ but when he talks to them it’s called ‘schizophrenia.’”

“We refuse to stand aside and allow your practices of bestiality, infanticide, violence—”

“Can I just point out the bible says something about turning the other cheek and loving thy enemies?”

“Silence, demon!” He held his hands up toward the sky. “In the name of Jesus Christ, we condemn you!”

Oh for the love of . . . well, God. Could this get more ridiculous?

Muttering prayers, they each produced little bottles and slung the contents at her.

Apparently, yes, it could.

Holy water. Fan-f*cking-tastic. She wiped some of the water from her eyes with her fingers. “Okay. This has gone far enough. You need to—” She tensed as one of the humans produced a black rope net from behind his back. Worse still, the leader took a large knife from inside his robe. A chill came over her, and her heart slammed against her ribs. She’d underestimated them when she’d caught sight of the little crucifixes. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would be armed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Ever seen one of these knives?” asked the leader, eyes swirling with calculation, as he moved a little to her left. He was trying to take her attention off the net, she realized. She shifted slightly, angling her body in a way that allowed her to keep both threats in her peripheral vision.

“It’s pretty, don’t you think?” he continued. “It’s called a wasp knife. Have you ever heard of them?”

No, but it sure didn’t sound good. Her wolf coiled, raring to strike.

“Many sea divers and hunters use them to defend themselves against predators. They have a cylinder of compressed gas in the hilt. Do you know what that means?” He was so confident and at ease, so sure of his power, that she suspected they had done this many times before. “That means that when a person stabs the animal and presses this little trigger, the gas is injected deep into the wound, freezing their organs.”

How f*cking charming. Makenna licked her lips, giving the net holders a sidelong glance. They hadn’t moved. But they would; she knew that. She didn’t doubt that she could claw her way out of the net, but being pinned down for just a few moments would leave her helpless against them.

She had no combat training. She was more of a scrapper than a fighter. And she was outnumbered and facing fanatical nut jobs complete with a net and a knife. Not exactly a positive situation. That didn’t mean she’d roll over and take this shit.

“I used it on a bear shifter once. It took him a few minutes to die. But smaller shifters like cougars and foxes tend to die in under a minute.”

She clenched her hands into fists as her stomach sank. Bastard.

“I’m wondering just how long you’ll take to die.” But he didn’t move to find out. Just stared at her with a cruel twist to his mouth. If he was trying to taunt her with anticipation, he was doing a good job.

Her peripheral vision alerted her to movement. The net holders were edging behind her and—

The leader charged at her. The others all lunged forward . . . catching the net as it flew over her head and pulling it down. It was heavier and thicker than she’d expected; the weight of it combined with the strength of the humans took her down to her hands and knees, trapping her. It happened so f*cking fast. And here was the damn knife.

Chanting a f*cking prayer, the leader tried stabbing her through one of the square holes. Makenna moved with the enhanced speed of her kind, rolling onto her back and dodging the knife. The leader stumbled and almost lost his footing. Taking advantage, Makenna clawed at the net. It took a few slashes to slice through the rope to create a big enough gap and—

And now the knife was coming at her again.

Faster than the human could ever hope to be, Makenna lunged upright and grabbed the wrist holding the blade. “Looks like God didn’t hear you.” She yanked his wrist hard, twisting it until something snapped. Merciless, yes, but who gave a shit?

With a loud cry, he dropped the knife. It grazed her thigh as it fell through the hole in the net and hit the ground with a clang. Hyped on adrenalin, she barely felt the sting.

In one swift movement, Makenna leapt to her feet, came up behind him—twisting his broken wrist behind his back in the process—and curved her free arm around his front, pressing her claws to his throat.

Everyone froze.

“Now we’re all going to calm the f*ck down,” snapped Makenna. Her wolf flexed her claws, not at all interested in calming down. “Boys, back away from the net—I don’t think I have to explain what will happen to your leader if you don’t.” The humans slowly edged back. “Wise decision.” The next thing on her agenda was getting away from this net. “Church Boy, we’re going to take a few slow steps forward.” She half expected him to try something. He didn’t.

As soon as they stepped off the net, she kicked it aside. “Now—”

The fire exit hatch flipped open, and a head popped out. Eyes wide, the male yelled, “She’s out back! She’s got Jeff!” The human toppled clumsily out of the hatch.

“Jeff,” drawled Makenna. “Is that your name? Not the kind that strikes fear into the heart of a person, is it?”